English

SECOND ODE .

Thou go'st! I murmur —
Go! let me murmur.
Oh, worthy man,
Fly from this land!

Deadly marshes,
Steaming mists of October
Here interweave their currents,
Blending for ever.

Noisome insects
Here are engender'd;
Fatal darkness
Veils their malice.

The fiery-tongued serpent,
Hard by the sedgy bank,
Stretches his pamper'd body,
Caress'd by the sun's bright beams.

Tempt no gentle night-rambles

FIRST ODE .

Transplant the beauteous tree!
Gardener, it gives me pain;
A happier resting-place
Its trunk deserved.

Yet the strength of its nature
To Earth's exhausting avarice,
To Air's destructive inroads,
An antidote opposed.

See how it in springtime
Coins its pale green leaves!
Their orange-fragrance
Poisons each flyblow straight.

The caterpillar's tooth
Is blunted by them;
With silv'ry hues they gleam
In the bright sunshine.

I had found out a gift for my fair,
I had found where the cave-men were laid;
Skull, femur, and pelvis were there,
And spears, that of silex they made.
But he ne'er could be true, she averred,
Who would dig up an ancestor's grave —
And I loved her the more when I heard
Such filial regard for the Cave.

My shelves, they are furnished with stones
All sorted and labelled with care,

I was a youth of studious mind,
Fair Science was my mistress kind,
And held me with attraction chemic;
No germs of Love attacked my heart,
Secured as by Pasteurian art
Against that fatal epidemic.

For when my daily task was o'er
I dreamed of H2SO4,
While stealing through my slumbers placid
Came Iodine, with violet fumes,
And Sulphur, with its yellow blooms,
And whiffs of Hydrochloric Acid.

Midnight in the Assyrian camp! No sound
Mingles with the light zephyr, whose faint breath
Fans the dull sleeper's cheek, and lifts the tress
Of raven hair on many a sunburnt brow,
Or revels in light playfulness around
The gorgeous canopy of Holofernes.
'Tis silence all. A murmuring rivulet,
Whose ripples scarce disturb the wakeful ear
Of the tired sentinel, goes whispering by,
And whisperingly is answered by the bough
Of palm and cedar on the mountain side.
The moon hath waned, and in its stead the pale

FORTY-THREE ANSWERS

Just as you think you've gained great wealth,
Something will make you lose your health .

Your hair will be white in a single night,
From having an unexpected fright .

You will enjoy a sweet old age ,
So kind and pure, so long and sage.

You will fall down at eighty-four,
And break a dozen ribs or more.

You will finish your days with God for your friend:
Who would not be glad of so blissful an end?

You will be ever absorbed in books ,

I.

S OFT , southern Gale, whose whisp'ring Breath
Skims lightly o'er the curling Wave,
O whither, in this hapless Bark,
Wilt thou convey a weeping Slave?

II.

To Doria 's wood-invested Land,
Or Phthia 's Pastures shall I go,
Where Father of Field-fat'ning Floods
Apidanus shall hear my Woe?

III.

Or sent to Athens , shall I weave
In Tissue Robes the Queen of War;

Song sung by captive women of Troy on the sea beach at Aulis, while the Achaeans were there storm-bound through the wrath of dishonoured Achilles, and waiting for a fair wind to bring them home.

Strofh

O fair wind blowing from the sea!
Who through the dark and mist dost guide
The ships that on the billows ride,
Unto what land, ah, misery!
Shall I be borne, across what stormy wave,
Or to whose house a purchased slave?

He pass'd his Journey, to the Court arriv'd,
There soon by Arts which thrive in Courts he thriv'd;
Straight reign'd Ambition, Right began to fail,
And Posts and Places all were set to Sale.
Blazing their Secrets, he his Suitors cheats;
Begs Titles from his Prince, new Lords creates,
Gives them new Names, and takes their old Estates.
Where of the least Offence he catches hold,
He fines the poor Offender forty fold:
He stifles rising Mercy, and improves
Each turn of Thought that Royal Vengeance moves:

There on th'extreamest Beach, and farthest Sand
Deserted Ariadna seem'd to stand,
New wak'd, and raving with her Love she flew
To the dire Shoar, from whence she might pursue
With longing Eyes, but all alas in vain!
The winged Bark o'er the tempestuous Main;
For bury'd in fallacious Sleep she lay
While thro' the Waves false Theseus cut his way,
Regardless of her Fate who sav'd his Youth;
Winds bore away his Promise and his Truth.
Like some wild Bachanal unmov'd she stood,
And with fix'd Eyes survey'd the raging Floud.